Apple's Hunt
by Alexjander R.R. Stormoen
Summary: "Will you accept the job offer, Hunter Apple?" asked Aslan, his expression serious. The Bounty Hunter read the contract again, an apple in one hand and a leafed parchment in another, "'ow much ye payin?" "One hundred gold for each child," the Lion answered.


**Disclaimer: Do not own Lewis' work and his creations.  
**

**Constructive Criticism only, thank you. **

* * *

Chapter 1: Coriander Apple

Apple's juice flowed down the woman's pale skin.

Her dark, brown eyes narrowed under her maroon cowl at every little movement, emanating an aura of total control and discipline about her armed self.

She bit into her green fruit again, ignoring the white droplets cascading down her chin and onto her leather fur-trimmed vest and continued to survey the tavern, waiting for the spy's imminent arrival. She drew a quick glance at her short sword, Esmeralda - a spoil plundered from her previous kill (a Northern Dragon of the Westerlands). The weapon was short in length and of burnished brass, though durable, it protected the wielder from any sort of fire magic. Atop Esmeralda's pommel, an emerald orb sat obediently between brass-like claws, holding the circular gem tightly in their grasp. The young woman saw the swirling wisps of smoking tendrils inside the globe move rapidly in a muddled manner. She reached out and touched the round knob gently, enjoying the warmth that it imparted.

It was rumoured that the orb had a trapped spirit inside, that could come out in times of need and help the wielder fight. Though, this was yet to happen to the young woman, as she fought many criminals in her line of work and not once had the sword's spirit made an appearance before her or her enemies. Perhaps, she thought, it was just that - a rumour. Even so, she was not one to dispute anything.  
Practicality was not lightly shed on her profession. Strange things tend to happen when chasing desperate criminals, so strange that one would even say they have seen the work of gods with their terrible and wicked magic unleashed upon their foes. Especially when said gods favoured the escaped criminals and the Bounty Hunters were chasing said criminals. The young woman knew her profession well, a little too well for her adoptive family reasoning, and she knew that in this line of work, she was to accept all sorts of woe released on her, be it magic or steel.

Sighing, she inhaled the sweet aroma of baked bread and fresh apples, nostalgia crushing her like a storming avalanche at which she quickly shook her head and reminded herself of the mission ahead. Aslan himself had hired her, asking to seek out some people and bring them to him - unharmed and taken care off. She remembered how the Great Lion had chuckled at her forlorn expression, but he was her employer and she needed to do as he said. After all, he paid her a very good price. One hundred gold for each person, a price she greedily agreed to.

One hundred. Each!

And if there is one thing she loved more then apples in this world, it was gold.

Furthermore, the Generous Lion has given her ten gold pieces, as a gift for accepting and signing the contract. The woman smirked and noted to herself that if she was ever in need of easy gold, she'd go to a king- it seemed that they simply threw that precious metal around. One hundred!

Now all she had to do was wait for Aslan's spy to give her information regarding the people she was to find and deliver to him.

One Hundred!

She could just imagine what she would do with all her gold, however, there was a clause in the contract stating she must bring the whole lot, or she would get nothing.

"Bunch o' nonsense," she muttered.

"Sorry, what?" asked the Tavern Master, as he was putting another bowl of green apples on the young woman's table.

"Nothin'," she answered in a hasty tone.

The Tavern Master looked strangely at her, tilting his neck to the right, raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Do you have Dwarvish in your blood?"

The woman smiled sadly and shook her head, "Nah! Me's adopted an' raised by two dwarves after me true ma and da died."

The Tavern Master gave her a sympathetic nod, for he too suffered the loss of his family not so long ago.

"May ask how they died?"

"The White Witch," she answered.

The man narrowed his eyes and spat on the wooden floor, surprising her.

"May that Witch burn in the deepest abyss and the hottest fires of Oblivion."

The woman raised her half eaten apple in a toast-like manner and bit into it, enjoying the savoury taste. The death of her true parents did not bother her much, having been only a year old when she was orphaned and passed over from neighbour to neighbour as a small child. She didn't know the meaning of family until a travelling blacksmith dwarf decided to adopt her. She had been nothing but thankful and loving towards her adoptive parents, even though they still did not support her line of work and would rather her settle down to have her own family.

"So what's your name?" asked the man, breaking the young woman away from her musing thoughts.

The woman chewed and weighed up the man, thinking perhaps he could be Aslan's spy, but dismissed the idea. They were very close to the Archenland borders; most inhabitants were human, and very few Narnians. Besides, the contracts clearly stated that the spy would be a Narnian.

"Me name's Coriander Apple," she introduced herself.

The man's eyes shot up (the woman would go so far as to say sparkling), his hands began to shake and his voice too, began to shake; she was slightly worried he was showing some display of illness.

"You're the infamous Dragon-slayer," he gasped, "They say the Witch's Secret Police fears the very mention of your name."

The woman, Coriander, gave the man a toothy grin, basking in his obvious starstruck admiration.

"Aye, that's me, now're gonna give me ye name?"

The Tavern Master seemed to snap out of his momentary awe and bowed low to her, his brown eyes lighting up warmly.

"I am Sebastian Rosmy."

"Pleasure to meet ye, Sebastian," said Coriander.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked and glanced at her three empty bowls, "Perhaps more apples?"

Coriander's smile widened and her eyes shone at the prospect of more delicious fruit; she quickly finished the one in her hand, leaving only the stem and leaf. She nodded her head, but before Sebastian could rush off to bring another bowl, Coriander stopped him and got out her travelling bag, asking him to fill whatever free space it had with apples, to which Sebastian was more than happy to oblige.

Coriander watched the small man hop off and heard the doors to the inn opening, thinking that perhaps the spy had finally arrived. But alas, to her disquietude three werewolves entered, followed by a hag and five grey-dwarves. Coriander's hand shot to her bow by reflex, her eyes glowing in rage, her lips curled up, showing her teeth. Sweeping her gaze across the tavern, she noted that many other occupants of the room clutched their weapons and pulled them over their laps. A silenced hush fell over all beings, tension and anxiety filled the hot room, everyone weighing the new trepidation afoot. For all knew that the Witch's people do not partake in merriment, especially not with Narnia's closest ally. Coriander saw the Tavern Master pick up a knife, his face swelling and eyes hardening like stone, yet masking a sliver of doubt and fear. She knew she had to be careful if the Witch's henchman were here, that meant Aslan's were either here as well or on their way.

Coriander hated war, especially the manipulating, ever-changing political upheaval it brought with it, dragging people like her into it.

Soon enough a brown avian flew in through an open window, cawing and hissing at the werewolves, hag and dwarves. The hawk flew over to her, his intelligent phosphorescent eyes spoke of some consequential importance. The hawk gave her a slight nod of his head and lifted his left leg to show the small white scroll attached to it.

"I bring news, Bounty Hunter Apple, from Aslan himself," spoke the hawk in a hushed voice, as Coriander began untying the scroll, "Forgive me, I could not get here any faster- my scouts reported that spies of the enemy's side were following. I did not believe that I would be so late that they would arrive before me. But it matters not now- this message is of utmost importance and must be acted upon immediately. We shall hold the spies off as long as we can, Hunter Apple. Once again, forgive my tardiness."

"Is dis me's further job 'escription," she whispered to herself, unhooking the protection cap off from the scroll.

But before she could make a move to read the message, her ears picked up a twanging sound. Before Coriander could identify and warn the loyal avian creature of his upcoming fate, an arrow shot the poor hawk straight through the chest, and embedding itself right above her ear. The tavern turned into chaos, as arrows and swords were unleashed from all directions. Thinking quickly, Coriander tied the scroll to her belt and grasped Esmeralda. With perfect timing too, as an ugly hag took a swipe at her with a rusty, yet sharp, dagger.

Esmeralda went flying up, deflecting the smaller weapon and proceeded to pierce the hag in the gut. The hag doubled over, Coriander watched in satisfaction as blood licked and tinkled down her brass sword. With a glance at the dead hawk, the young woman believed herself to have avenged him and turned to her remaining enemies.

"Came at me, ye smelly mutts!" she cried towards the werewolves, laughing at one nocturnal canine who stumbled over the tavern chairs and tables and impaled himself on a wooden stake.

The other two werewolves howled and made a retreat, seeing that they were outnumbered. The tavern occupants cheered and some followed after the two remaining enemies. Coriander spotted Sebastian hiding behind his counter, holding the knife over his head. Giggling, she walked up to the bench to collect her things and leave as soon as possible, before more reinforcement was called upon.

All of a sudden, Coriander felt her body being lifted from the ground by a hot magical source and thrown hard on the snow.

Winded and most likely suffering a concussion, Coriander lifted her head and saw the entire tavern and bare trees next to it completely blown apart, leaving behind a charred mess painting the white snow in an inky design. Coughing in the silver smoke, Coriander stood up shaking and grasped her injured arm on the right, cursing loudly, she felt a bone sticking painfully out in an awkward manner. She dropped Esmeralda, silently thanking the weapon for protecting her from the fire explosion. Using her teeth, she picked up a small wooden lumber and bit hard into it as she began popping her bone back into place.

Pain erupted through her entire body, filling her with fiery adrenaline; heaving in shallow breaths, Coriander screamed loudly as she pulled her fingers. She heard another crack and ignored her dislocated finger, she focused on putting her bone back in place. Tears welled in her eyes as the bone began to tear at her skin from the inside, but Coriander persisted, and with a loud shriek, she set the bone in place. Spitting the stick from her mouth, she fell on the snow again, enjoying the cold that it brought to her being, chilling her sweating skin and numbing away the pain. She laid there for many hours, tears freezing to her pale skin, with her good arm, she ripped a large piece off her maroon cloak, and used that as a sling for her right arm, tying the ends with her teeth. Once her arm was nested numbly against her chest, Coriander pulled out the scroll, and using her canines and some debris, she was able to unroll the parchment and keep it from rolling back up.

The contents of the scroll was not what she expected.

Four bounty flyers for each individual child. Coriander never in her life wanted to kill anyone as much as she did the cunning Lion at that moment.

These flyers were not created by Aslan, but by the White Witch.

"Damned Cat!" she spat, quite literally too.

Coriander narrowed her eyes- she had entered murky waters, if she was to deliver the children to Aslan, all her job possibilities with the Witch (not that she wanted them) would disappear. However, should the White Witch win the war, that would mean Coriander would be out of business and most likely killed for treason. Not only that, Aslan has single handedly signed her up for his side of the war. Growling, the Bounty Hunter wondered what she would do to the Lion. She looked at the flyers again, noting that they, the children, were last seen at the Lamp-Post, meaning that she also had a long trek ahead of her. She noted, to her dismay, that the the reward on the flyers was ripped and illegible. Regarding it with suspicion, the young woman thought if the Witch offered more then one hundred for each, but didn't want to risk it. After all, she had a contract with Aslan and if she tore apart that contract no one would ever hire her, or trust her again. Sighing in defeat, she picked up the parchment and studied the features of each child, trying to memorise their looks. As she didn't have the luxury of knowing their hair, skin or eye colour, Coriander had to go with only the rough sketches provided. Once she thought she could remember them well enough, she folded the flyers as best she could with one hand, sliding the four leafs of parchments into her fur-trimmed leather tunic. She picked Esmerelda up and awkwardly sheathed the sword with her left arm, on her left hip. Shaking her head and feeling slightly better, she began treading towards the woods, counting how many days it would take to reach her destination. Coriander prayed that the White Witch would not receive the news from the surviving enemies for another ten-day, which should give her enough time to come close to Aslan's camp. Although to most, she was as good as dead from the explosion, sadly the Witch knew of her sword and its properties and no doubt she would reveal them to her minions as soon as they declared her dead. The Bounty Hunter wondered why the White Witch wanted a couple of children anyway, according to the flayers they weren't criminals of any sort. She carefully took one flyer out, unfolded it, she searched for any sort of heinous act they could have committed. With a sullen glower, Coriander read:

_Wanted for High Treason against Her Majesty, Queen Jadis of Narnia. _

_Long Live the Queen. _

Not liking this at all, she folded the parchment up again and slid it back into her tunic, knowing that whoever these children were, they probably played a very important role in the Narnian war. She wondered whether she still had time to return to Archenland and continue her Bounty Hunter career there, without having to worry about any Snow Queens or Lions tugging on the same rope like children, screeching 'mine'. Unfortunately, being too good at your job earns you a pretty good reputation thus making you a desirable employee for the likes of Lions and Ice Witches.

* * *

Coriander collected firewood the best she could with one hand and as she stashed the twigs into her sling, she heard a loud howl descend upon the starless night. Had these been a few days ago, before her contract with Aslan, she would have nothing to fear. But no doubt, the surviving werewolves would have spread the news of her 'siding' with Aslan. Promising to give the cunning Lion a piece of her mind, Coriander wrapped her cloak around herself, making sure to hide her appearance. After all, maroon coloured cloaks, such as hers, were worn only by Bounty Hunters; with any luck they would think she was some Bounty Hunter, seeking warmth in this hundred year old winter. Besides, Coriander Apple should be thought dead from that fire explosion- only a selected few knew of her magical sword (selected few being Aslan and his most trusted henchman and vice versa with the Witch). Hopefully, such uninformed knowledge would give her a few days to reach Lamp-Post, more formally known as Lantern Waste, and be half way near Aslan's Camp.

Finding stones to form a fire was a tedious task, and would not have taken twice as long if she was in a position to use both her arms. Setting the twigs, surprisingly, took almost the same amount of time as if she could use both hands. Soon, Coriander found that she had come to the hard part, lighting the actual fire.

Wondering how on earth she would use her flint and steel to spark the bloody fire, Coriander felt a few tears promising to escape her eyes, sneering at her useless arm and vowing to cut off Aslan's tail, she heard a twig snap.

Coriander ignored it out of habit and focused on the task at hand, placing the steel in between her feet and hitting it with the flint, a few sparks erupted but not enough to start a fire.

"Damned cat, goin' to castrate him!"

So engrossed was she in her work, she didn't hear as a dwarf sneaked up on her and threw a leather cord over her neck. Both her arms flew to her neck out by instinct and sharp pain engulfed her right side, blinding her momentary. Soon her lungs and neck were screaming in agony, begging for air. Coriander's face turned purple, her left hand weakly clawing at the leather cord as the dwarf pulled tighter and tighter. Her vision darkened, and as she started thinking that perhaps this was it, loud galloping noise echoed through the woods and lo and behold, a black coated centaur came leaping out of the leafless trees, shooting the dwarf dead in the forehead with his mighty longbow. As the leather cord loosened, the Bounty Hunter took large gasps, her chest contracting painfully.

Coriander coughed and dispelled her stomach of its half-digested content, she felt herself drowning in her own puke, her body wanting air, yet refused entry by the suffocating vomit. Laughing internally, Coriander thought that perhaps she would not die by an enemy's hand, but rather suffocate in her own sick. Fortunately, large, dark-haired arms lifted her up and turned her over, allowing her to cough away all the content in her mouth. Taking in large quantities of sweet air, Coriander finally smelled the vile spew she emitted. Wrinkling her nose and wiping her good hand across her mouth, the Bounty Hunter turned towards her saviour.

"Thanks to ye, me friend," she rasped.

The centaur bowed his head with concern shining in his bright green eyes, he knelt down to her level, making Coriander remember she was considered short for her age. Scowling for having dryad blood in her, the woman watched as the centaur touched her neck gently and rubbed on it some snow to calm the swelling.

"You are lucky I came just in time. Had I been a moment too late, you would have left our world, Hunter Apple," he spoke in baritone voice.

"That's comfortin'," she rasped out.

The centaur chuckled, standing up slowly, he walked around the campfire and spoke in his rich tone the ancient words of power. The young woman watched as fire sparked to life with his words, burning more brightly and more lively then any of her own.

"Thanks," she rasped, her voice barely audible.

She sat down, rubbing her neck, hoping that there would be no lasting marks, she may be a Bounty Hunter but she was still a woman and liked to look her best.

"What's yer name?" she asked after a pregnant silence.

"I am known as Fûjorr Firestar, Hunter Apple," he said.

Coriander smiled at the black coated centaur, and nodded her head at him.

"Well, Fûjorr hope ye like snow, 'cos that's all we're havin' tonight," she spoke, pointing out that she had no provisions (well that was a lie, she had one apple in her pocket, but she wasn't about to share it).

Fûjorr didn't seem to mind, he only gave her an amused grin and laid down to rest.

"Rest, Hunter Apple, for tomorrow I am to carry you to Lantern Waste by orders of Aslan," he said, ignoring Coriander's frowning face and hard eyes. She glanced at the sprawled corpse of the dwarf and mused about what to do with him. Taking a quick look at Fûjorr who looked to be already asleep near the fire, Coriander grabbed the leg of the dead body and dragged him into the fire. The burning smell of roasting flesh attacked her senses, yet didn't phase the woman in the slightest. She had seen more death then she should've for her age.

"You believe that was wise?" Fûjorr smooth baritone voice suddenly asked.

"Nothin' me do is wise," she said, enjoying the sparking yellow, orange and red tongues dancing on the corpse, feeling no remorse or sympathy, "I thought ye were sleeping."

"I was before the horrid stench assaulted by nose," he grimaced, "Pray tell me, Hunter Apple, why throw this dwarf into the fire? He is dead already, no?"

"Ye destroy evidence, me's supposed to be dead," she stared hard into his eyes, "I like to stay that way for a while, till 'em find out."

"I do believe catching criminals has turned you into one as well," Fûjorr said with hard steel green eyes. Coriander only shrugged in response, she supposed that was true. Chasing criminals made her learn many dirty tricks, but no matter how callused they were in moral, she knew that such acts would keep her alive- however, the centaur was not through with his opinion.

"I had a better mind of you, Hunter Apple," he began, looking somewhat distastefully towards her, "I believed you to be a woman of honour."

"Ye sound like me father, speaking o' honour and the likes," she sighed, "Me's supposed to be dead, 'em need to believe that."

Coriander pointed towards the Witch's castle in emphasis, trying to put her point across.

Fûjorr huffed slightly, but saw her point of things- if the Witch's spies thought her to be dead, then no one would pursue her, yet tonight's dwarf proved that there were some who knew her not to be dead.

"Aye, perhaps," he said, "Yet tonight's failed assassination proved otherwise."

"Bah!" she raised her arms high above her head in exasperation. Fûjorr found it amusing- her indignation, her agitation. He respected her as a person, yet as a warrior he found her to be a coward. He waved his hand in her direction, saying that they needed rest, especially her, the swelling in her neck has subsided greatly and she spoke better and better by the minute, without sounding like an actual raspy dwarf. He also said that he needed to see the contract she signed with Aslan, without giving her a reason why, and then shifting his front legs to the side, he allowed himself to lean on of the trees and sleep.

Coriander muttered a long chain of dwarvish curses all directed towards Aslan, laid down on her own blanket, adjusting her right arm so it would be less painful to sleep, and closed her eyes. She dreamed of mountains of gold and green apples.

* * *

The trees became denser as she neared the Lamp Post of Lantern Waste, it took her three days, thanks to a centaur who carried her once she gave him a contract as proof that she was indeed, working for Aslan. Huffing at the thought, she still wondered why he saved her if he believed she wasn't working for Him, yet when she voiced this question he simply refused to answer. Fûjorr Firestar was certainly the most infuriating centaur she had ever met. Coriander smirked to herself, acknowledging the fact that was why she liked him- she didn't like boring people. If they didn't make her want to kill them, then they were not worth her time. Looking down at her arm, which thankfully hurt less now, but still shot pain occasionally when she was stressed, she wondered when it would be healed enough to fight. The assassination attempt that night made her realise how defenceless she truly was, and that scared her. She needed to be able to fight or she would most definitely die. The mark on her neck had almost disappeared, for which she was also thankful. She parted ways with Fûjorr as soon as they reached the Lamp Post, but not before they wished each other luck and promised to meet again one day.

Now Coriander was treading through the snow, the polychromatic evening rays lit up the tundra in a harmonious aura, exuding warmth and beauty. For the Bounty Hunter, no matter who killed her parents or turned Narnia into hundred years of winter, she could confidently say that she enjoyed the winter chill and everything that it brought. Coriander only hoped she could reach the children before they froze to death or something else that would positively not get her her gold. If she delivered them all in one piece, then not only would she gain four hundred gold pieces, but also ensure that the annoying feline paid her double for compensation at being almost assassinated.

Coriander felt herself grinning from ear to ear, like a Cheshire cat, her fingers itching to hold the weight of such sun-kissed metal. Subconsciously she touched her own pouch, which should be filled with her ten pieces, her eyes widened as her fingers made contact with the now empty cloth, her hand working fast to untangle it.

"Wha-what? Where's me gold!" she screamed, in rage and frustration.

Coriander threw the purple pouch onto the snow, screeching wildly in indignation, her feet kicking the snow around. To an outside eye, she looked very much like a spoiled child shrieking to the sky. Coriander swore to herself that she would milk Aslan for all the misery and unfortunate luck she had incurred while looking for the blasted children.

Sulking and muttering all the curses she'd picked up from her adoptive father, Coriander stomped the snow below her roughly, blaming everything on the children and Aslan - especially Aslan.

Coriander suddenly heard barking, howling, snarling and an eventual whimper.  
Throwing herself against one of the trees, the Bounty Hunter moved more smoothly and steadily across the snow, staying within the safety of the trees.

"Your reward is your life," she heard a snarling voice speak, "It's not much…but still."

She poked her head from behind the tree and saw a group of wolves surrounding a woodland fox, who was being held up by a cruel-looking wolf with a wicked scar.

Coriander scanned the clearing and spotted three children and two beavers sitting on the tree branches, she took out one of the flyers and realised that they matched in appearance. Grinning again, she stepped out from within the trees.

"'Scuse me, me good friends, but I am lookin' fo' some humans?" she spoke evenly catching the attention of all parties, she sent a quick wink to the fox, who grinned at her presence, "Would ye happen to know'ere they run o' too?"

Coriander shifted her broken arm under her cloak, hoping to appear totally armed and ready, and not battle disabled as she was.

"This doesn't concern you, Bounty Hunter," growled the leader of the pack.

"Me thinkie't does," answered Coriander, she grabbed the front of her cowl and pulled it back, allowing her matted long blonde hair to be revealed. She saw the wolves sniffing the air, their eyes beginning to glow in fear having finally realised to whom they are talking to. Coriander grinned at them, they still don't know of her supposed 'siding' with Aslan.

"Hunter Apple," snarled Maugrim, the Captain, Coriander reminded herself, "What a pleasant surprise."

Nodding her head, Coriander lifted her eyes up to see the scared looks on the children's faces, and quickly averted them, wondering were the other one was. Weren't there supposed to be four of them, she thought, but dismissed herself from her imminent reverie as the wolves began to circle around her. She needed to focus.

"Whatcha doin'," she asked casually.

"I am looking for humans," the wolf replied, clearly agitated.

Coriander smirked and walked around to the side, giggling at the wolves who jumped away and growled weakly at her.

"Same, just bagged meself some not a moment ago and presented them to ye Queenie," she said, hoping to confuse Maugrim.

"That's impossible, we only just caught up to them," he growled and leaped at her, not liking that his kin were scared of the young Bounty Hunter. Even if he was deathly terrified, he needed to show his dominance and prove to his pack that he was an alpha and can lead them.

Thinking quickly, Coriander drew out Esmerelda awkwardly with her left arm, nipping the alpha's nose.

"Tsk, tsk, Maugrim," cooed Coriander, enjoying the fear which flooded into the wolf's features, "If ye really want some stinky humans ye better run north, isn't that right 'aster Fox?"

She turned to the fox who lifted his ears and caught on the bluff Coriander was spinning. His expression turned one into deep regret and guilt, "Hunter Apple speaks the truth, I told them to run north."

"Ye see! Ye ol' lass Coriander don't lie," she spoke, her voice playful, yet in her mind she was screaming to stop taunting the wolves, "Tell ye what, me'll 'ive ye a head start, or I'll start guttin' ye like a mutt."

Coriander and Maugrim glared into each other's eyes, alpha dominance practically oozing from the both of them, demanding the other to back down. Luckily having the title of Dragon-slayer does scare potential enemies away, especially in times like these, Coriander thought smugly, proud of her achievements.

"Smell them out," he barked out, the scared wolf threw the fox against the tree and began sniffing the air, snapping his sharp canine fangs at the orange woodland creature one last time.

In a few moments' time, all the wolves were gone, happily, from the open grove. The young woman walked over towards the fox hastily, kneeling down she analysed that his wound wasn't as bad as she first predicted, but still needed to be taken care of, preferably by someone with two working hands.

"Ye 'right?" she asked, watching as the fox grimaced in pain, calling herself stupid for such an imbecilic question. The poor creature had just been bitten roughly by a wolf, of course he was not alright!

"I'll live," he said, "I must admit you have impeccable timing, Hunter Apple."

Coriander heard shuffling and snow being crushed under pressure, turning around swiftly on the balls of her feet, she watched as the humans and beavers came down from the tree - to her amusement, somewhat awkwardly. She sheathed her sword, making sure not to scare the children off, and counted the company before her - three humans, two beavers. Now where in the Lion's mane was the fourth human?

"Where's da other male?" she asked, and drew out the flyers from the inside of her tunic, purposely ignoring the bewildered looks she was getting from the three children. "Me thinks'is name was E'mund?"

Some of the flyers fell from her hand and landed near the beavers who gasped in shock and began panicking. They knew Bounty Hunter Apple's love for gold, and the fact that she carried the Witch's flyers made them think the worst possible scenario. Thinking quickly and before Master Fox could introduce everyone and explain the situation at hand, Mr Beaver leaped up at defenceless Coriander and bit her hard on the wounded arm.

* * *

**A/N - This chapter is more experimental, if enough people read it and like it I will upload more. My only request is for constructive criticism only, if you write mind numbing hate, your review will be removed. Please, let us act like polite and civilised adults.**

**Thank you for reading.  
**


End file.
